


Particular Friends

by TawnyOwl95



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Regency, F/F, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26238502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TawnyOwl95/pseuds/TawnyOwl95
Summary: Miss Antoinette Crowley has received an offer of marriage.  Miss Emma Fell should be pleased for her friend. Unfortunately, she is very much not pleased.  Quite put out, if truth be told.  Now she just has to admit why.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Gabriel/Sandalphon (Good Omens)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 116





	Particular Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jamgrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamgrl/gifts).



> For [Jamgrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamgrl/pseuds/jamgrl) Thank you for making me a better writer.
> 
> And thank you to  
> [MelayneSeahawk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelayneSeahawk/pseuds/MelayneSeahawk) for a super speedy and really helpful beta.

Miss Emma Fell had always resolved not to get married. It was a stricture she applied only to herself, however, and, up until this moment, hadn't objected to anyone _else_ getting married. The population, after all, had to be replenished. This current madness, though, was really not to be borne.

"Mr. Lucian Deverill?" Miss Fell said again, a hand resting on her chest as though that could silence her beating heart. "Antoinette? Really?"

Miss Antoinette Crowley refused to look ashamed. She perched on the end of Miss Fell's bed, knees together and hands folded in her lap. Even her spine was straight, an accomplishment that Miss Fell took full credit for. If it weren't for her patience in giving Antoinette lessons in both manners and deportment, the foundling girl would be sprawled all over the covers with her ankles on display to all and sundry.

The only thing Miss Fell hadn't been able to condition out of her was the angry glare in her eyes, which Antoinette could never quite hide when she was roused.

"He is a respectable man," Antoinette protested.

He was a farmer! Honestly! "But I thought the Reverend Sandalphon…"

"Will have none of me," Antoinette said. "And after he slighted me at the assembly I mean to have none of him!"

"He was talking to Mr. Wingate!" Admittedly the two gentlemen had both spent a great deal of time talking, much to the detriment of several young ladies who wanted partners, but surely it had been nothing personal to Antoinette?

And hadn't it also meant there was no expectation for Miss Fell to dance with Mr. Wingate either? Consequently, it had been perfectly acceptable for Miss Fell to stand up with Antoinette for at least two of the country dances. Still, "But Reverend Sandalphon complimented the flowers you grew."

"He complimented _your_ arrangement of them," Antoinette snapped back.

Antoinette got up and began to pace, despite Miss Fell's numerous comments on how it did not demonstrate the grace and fluidity of a lady's movements, not to mention the wear to the rugs.

"I understand your displeasure." Antoinette waved a long fingered hand, effectively understanding Miss Fell's displeasure and then dismissing it as irrelevant. "And I have tried to make you proud, but all the calculated flirting in the world--often with menaces, I might add--is not going to overcome the shameful mystery of my birth. I am not an heiress who is going to have her future secured whether she marries or no. I am a penniless orphan, and Mr. Deverill seems to be the only man in the village who doesn't care about that!"

Antoinette's hair had come loose. It was always coming loose as she always moved about too fast. Miss Fell had taken to carrying extra pins so she could perform emergency surgery on it when needed. Her fingers itched to do so now. Before she could attack, however, Antoinette flung herself on to the chaise and began to gnaw at a thumbnail. It meant her ankles were on full display. Delicate ankles with beautifully shaped calves. Miss Fell was also tortured with the knowledge that the red hair on those calves looked soft as duckling down.

Miss Fell resisted the urge to kneel before Antoinette and skim her palms up over those well-filled stockings. She also resisted the urge to smack Antoinette's hand away from her teeth.

Miss Fell was good at resisting.

Antoinette finally allowed her thumb nail respite. She brought her knees back together and leaning forward, hands braced on the seat of the chaise on either side of her legs, and said earnestly, "It is a good match, better than I should expect. Everyone tells me so except you…"

"Everyone does not appreciate your unique qualities as I do," Miss Fell interrupted.

"Let me speak! Good God, Emma, would it kill you to listen once in a while?"

Miss Fell was struck dumb at this outburst, and being struck dumb had no recourse but to listen as Antoinette continued, "If there is a single, true, honest reason why you do not wish me to wed Mr. Deverill then speak. You can tell me anything. I will not judge you after you have been so kind to me. After you have become my most particular friend."

Antoinette's gorgeously expressive eyes were wide and unguarded. The hope in them made Miss Fell's stomach squirm with something like guilt. She wasn't yet sure what she should be guilty for, but she suspected it was because she had used Antoinette very ill these past few months.

Which was ridiculous. She'd lifted Antoinette up, hadn't she? Introduced her to a much better way of living? Hadn't she? It was just at this moment of introspection that whatever blessing or curse that had kept Miss Fell silent broke. "But, Antoinette! Miss Emma Fell of Heavenfield Manor can not call on _Mrs._ Lucien Deverill of Brimstone Farm!"

Antoinette's face hardened. Her eyes went cold. "Well, I am so very sorry that my life choices inconvenience you." Then she left. Despite all Miss Fell's instructions on the subject she slammed the door on her way out.

Ladies did not succumb to wrath so Miss Fell didn't. Nevertheless, she remained sat at the dressing table in her bedroom for a good half an hour before she trusted herself to move.

If she hadn't the books on her bedside table would not have survived. With what Miss Fell considered great strength of character she went downstairs and, finding a footman, managed to order the carriage without kicking the skirting boards or ripping tapestries from the walls.

By the time the carriage drove through Heavenfield's gate, Miss Fell’s anger had subsided into disappointment. As it pulled up at the doors of the neighbouring Wingate Abbey she was quite worn out with emotion. A cold stone weight of loss and self-loathing had settled on her. It was most disconcerting. She was not the one that had left, after all. Antoinette had always been rash and impetuous. 

Miss Fell did not need to be announced. Gabriel Wingate was her brother-in-law and they had that kind of cosy intimacy that negated the need for the normal rituals required when performing a visit.

Plus, Mr. Wingate was a good deal older than Miss Fell, which apparently gave him the right to lecture her to distraction. It was a matter of eternal irritation to Miss Fell that quite often these lectures contained things that were worth listening to. Hence, her visit. Although she would never tell him this, and thus fuel his already insupportable ego.

She marched across the entrance hall and straight to the drawing room. On opening the door she beheld Mr. Wingate at the fireplace, head bent in conversation with Reverend Sandalphon. They were by no means closer than they had been at the assembly hall, but the privacy of the setting and the soft intimacy of the scene immediately made Miss Fell apologise for intruding. Both men looked up. Reverend Sandalphon stepped hastily back. Wingate turned with his smile displaying his full set of teeth and cried, "Emma!" He opened his arms, but there was strain around his eyes.

Miss Fell apologised again and added, "I will return later." She didn't move, though. To move would have been an admission she had seen something she shouldn't have.

Reverend Sandalphon crossed to the table where the tea had been laid out and studiously began counting out lumps of sugar as though they were sacraments.

"Walk with me!" Wingate took Miss Fell by the arm and steered her forcefully into an about-turn. The door closed firmly behind them.

Miss Fell found herself marched back across the entrance hall and then through the house and out into the rear gardens.

The gardens of Wingate Abbey were as perfect as the rest of the house, and the man who owned them. Miss Fell sighed, remembering how Antoinette had lit up from within on seeing the roses for the first time.

"Reverend Sandalphon and I have been friends a long time," Wingate boomed as he strolled ahead, hands clasped behind his back and chin stuck out to face the world. "Even before I granted him the living at Saviour's Cross. We knew each other at Eaton. Then Oxbridge. It gives us a particular understanding. Much, I imagine, like the one you share with your little foundling girl. Hmm?"

"Antoinette." Because correcting Wingate when his pretentiousness showed was a familiar and therefore secure habit. "And she isn't little. Slender, I grant you, but rather like a willow tree, I've found."

"And certain to bend under adversity. I hope you know I advised Mr. Deverill to caution."

All the hurt, anger and disappointment Miss Fell had been trying to master slipped its leash and dragged her down into the pits of despair. "I don't know why you would advise caution. As far as Antoinette is concerned he is quite the catch. I believe she means to accept him."

Wingate stopped. Miss Fell, who was contemplating the vast emptiness of a future devoid of Antoinette, walked into his back. He took hold of her shoulders and set her to rights.

"By God!" Wingate said right in her face. “Accept him, you say? But I thought…Well, perhaps I misread the situation." He bent down, examining Miss Fell's expression and giving her rather a good view of his eyebrows. "But you don't look happy for your friend."

"It is rather that I am sad for myself. Do you remember my governess, Miss Device?"

"A charming if somewhat opinionated woman. You followed her around like a love struck puppy."

"It's true, I admired her greatly, and was desolate when she left. But this feels so much worse. Why does everyone always leave, Gabriel?" Miss Fell sniffed. She felt she was allowed this display of emotion, at least.

Wingate nodded in understanding. "Perhaps, my dear girl, it's because you never ask them to stay?" His voice was sympathetic, but unfortunately it was one of those moments where Miss Fell could both appreciate his perception and be annoyed enough about it to want to punch him.

She managed to contain the depth of her feeling to a sigh. "That would be terribly selfish of me. Antoinette must think of her future. As she so correctly pointed out, she doesn't have my advantages."

"Well, I did not force Sandalphon to take the living on my land." Wingate strode off. "I offered it as a means to us spending more time together. It was something I had that could help him, help us. And a fine lady like yourself needs a companion, does she not?"

Miss Fell, now scampering to keep up with Wingate’s longer legs, had barely enough breath left to agree.

"And if you are resolved never to marry, then Heavenfield will get desperately empty when your mother does decide to take her last journey. And really, our neighbours will look far less closely at the two of you than you suppose so long as you host your share of balls and don't frighten the horses. Just ask. If she says no then wish her joy, by all means. Now!” He clapped his hands, apparently satisfied that his wisdom had solved all woes. “Come and see my new fountain!"

The fountain was large enough that Wingate could spend the rest of the afternoon extolling its virtues, and by default his own talents at engineering, design, and landscaping. By the time he was done Miss Fell felt suitably exhausted both in mind and heart to see herself more clearly. Consequently, on the carriage ride back to Heavenfield Miss Fell's confusion morphed to understanding, then oscillated between fear and resolve with occasional bouts of _Wingate and the reverend? Really? Gosh!_

After the interrogation of several of Heavenfield’s servants, Miss Fell located Antoinette in the greenhouse, where she was hacking at the geraniums with very little decorum but a great deal of passion.

Miss Fell stopped cautiously when confronted with the competent way Antoinette wielded the pruning shears. "I can come back later," she said, for the second time that day.

Antoinette dropped the shears on a bench, obviously resigned to her fate. "I've been waiting for you. Not like you to let anyone else have the last word, is it?"

Miss Fell sat on a stone bench against the wall. Antoinette stuck out her hip and folded her arms.

Time marched on in awkward, yet expectant silence.

Miss Fell plucked at the embroidery on her skirt. "If you truly love Mr. Deverill, I won't object," she told her knees.

Antoinette snorted.

"I won't!" Miss Fell protested. "At least not out loud, in public, where other people could hear."

She was gratified to see Antoinette return her smile. Her eyes remained wary though.

Miss Fell held out her hand. "Please, my dear. I can’t think with you looming like that.”

Antoinette rolled her eyes, but she took the proffered hand, and didn't let go of it as she sat down on the bench close enough for their legs to touch.

Miss Fell dared run her thumb over Antoinette's knuckles, but couldn't meet the other girl's gaze. "I confess, in the beginning you were little more to me than a philanthropic pursuit. I've always been aware of the good luck of my birth and wanted to pay some of that back. I see now that the way I went about that was completely blinkered and self-serving. I am sorry. So very sorry, my dear. I want you to know though that our time together has been the happiest of my life. You have taught me more, I think, than I ever managed to teach you, and I'm the better for it. I can't imagine Heavenfield, or my life, without you. You will always have a home there with me, as long as you would like it. You do understand what I'm saying, don't you, dearest?" Having run out of words, Miss Fell found the courage to look up. Her hand was played and all she must do now was wait.

Antoinette had softened. The tension ebbing from her spine and shoulders as she swayed in to tuck an errant curl behind Miss Fell's ear. "That I am, in fact, your most particular friend, too."

Miss Fell leaned into the touch of Antoinette’s fingers brushing her cheek. "Oh, so much more than that."

Antoinette smiled. "Thank goodness, because I refused Mr. Deverill before I came here."

"You did?" Miss Fell's heart began to beat faster than was entirely proper.

"As furious as I was with you, I couldn't marry poor Mr. Deverill out of spite."

"Poor Mr. Deverill!" Mrs Fell gasped before her brain processed what Antoinette had said. Once she understood she was unable to contain her joy. Miss Fell brought Antoinette's hand to her heart. "Oh, my darling! Then you want to stay with me?" 

She was gratified that, rather than pulling away, Antoinette leaned in closer still. "Of course, you goose," Antoinette whispered. "But only if you kiss me right this minute."

So Emma did, and thus was the matter concluded to the satisfaction of all parties.


End file.
